


Harry Potter and the Aftermath of the Weeping Angel Murders

by hymns_to_alien_stars



Series: Harry Potter and the Aftermath [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (for MoD and author's amusement reasons), Adoption, De-Aged Harry Potter, Department of Mysteries, Gen, Master of Death Harry Potter, Official Time Traveller Procedures, Time Travel, Uspeakables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hymns_to_alien_stars/pseuds/hymns_to_alien_stars
Summary: What happens to time travellers who, instead of falling head-first into changing the timeline or pretending to be muggleborn nobodies, report to the Department of Mysteries?
Series: Harry Potter and the Aftermath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154303
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Harry Potter and the Aftermath of the Weeping Angel Murders

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to read something with that premise though this one is pure fantasy and misses out on a lot of the satiric opportunities.

Harry Potter woke up in the dead-end of some street, looked around - no one - and cast a bunch of diagnostic charms. The mild concussion wasn’t the reason he lost consciousness but possibly the cause of his headache.

He felt only slightly dizzy when he got up and it passed in a few moments. It was probably okay to apparate.

Harry tried to contact his team but there was something wrong with the connection. What happened? He remembered getting a call and giving orders to use stunning spells because the Department of Mysteries wanted their hands on the murder weapon…

Presumably, Harry got separated somehow and — well.

No, if Harry knew himself at all, he probably dashed ahead to confront the criminal — and he thought he got rid of his hero complex after so many years. But it didn’t fit either because even if Harry had a sudden fit of nostalgia for heroics, no one would let a Head Auror do such a reckless thing, he would be reminded of his duties and assigned back-up.

But he was alone in the alley, no other bodies, no blood, no sign of a fight.

Something was wrong.

Harry left the dead end and the feeling of wrongness only grew.

He was in Knockturn Alley, in one of those shady lanes far from the shopping district centre that hadn’t been cleaned up and housed all sorts of illicit individuals. Harry frowned. He didn’t remember the chase going into Knockturn, though it wasn’t unusual on its own.

He transfigured his Auror uniform in plain black robes and decided to walk around for some signs of what happened. After a couple of turns, the alley seemed to widen - was he on the main street already? Harry never was geographically challenged, especially after years as an Auror, but it didn’t make sense: he shouldn't be able to get to the main street that fast and especially shouldn’t be able to see Diagon Alley from this point.

Maybe he could get a better grasp on the situation from the Auror post there.

Harry nodded to himself and headed for the Diagon. Was it him missing a fashion trend or was it some kind of retro week, Harry thought watching the passers-by. Strange silhouettes of women’s robes were the main hint but men’s fashion choices also made him raise an eyebrow once or twice.

However, people threw the same glances at him.

When the Auror post wasn’t there, Harry admitted that he was confused as hell and maybe even panicking a bit. He went into a cafe, bought tea and sat in the corner.

It was strange that nobody contacted him with the Patronus but people were probably looking for him, in any case. He decided to apparate to the HQ after finishing the cup.

Then, Harry saw the date on a newspaper a gentleman opposite of him was reading and the tea went completely the wrong way. Much coughing, embarrassment and mortification later, he stood outside for a minute, staring at the Diagon Alley, the people and the signs. Then, he went to the Department of Mysteries.

Harry decided right away that he was going to lie.

Not about everything - he finally understood what the murder weapon did and where the bodies went, so he was going to pretend to be a victim of the serial killer his previous-life Auror Department chased after. Harry was out of ageing potion and all his back-up glamours failed as they weren’t time-travel proof. He looked like a seventeen-year-old version of himself - maybe a healthier version, but seventeen nevertheless, not a year older the moment he became the owner of all three Hallows. He didn’t know he might want to get rid of them  _ properly _ , otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown them in places he later wouldn’t be able to find.

Harry suspected that if the Unspeakables heard of the Master of Death title they would try to keep him, wixen rights be damned. So, an ordinary seventeen-year-old wizard was coming right up. 

Literally, as the elevator binged and he exited on the ninth floor.

The woman on the reception desk was busy with someone else so he sat in one of the chairs and waited, thinking about what was the backstory he was going to tell. He certainly wasn’t going to volunteer the whole Boy-Who-Lived business but everything else seemed innocuous enough.

Harry himself dealt with a time travel accident only once, as a Junior Auror, and got through a crash course of how to deal with them later. At that time, he was afraid that Kevin would never be seen outside of the Department of Mysteries but he was given an identity and Harry sometimes saw his face in the Ministry when he got a minor secretarial job.

A tall man with blonde hair but otherwise, thankfully, nothing like Malfoy only threw one glance at him, going out. Harry came up to the reception desk.

“Hello,” he said, suddenly regretting he didn’t plan this conversation at all. “Erm. I am pretty sure it was 2019 this morning?..” 

The woman didn’t even blink. She nodded and started to look for some papers, “I’ll inform the Unspeakable on duty immediately.” She looked up at him, “Don’t worry, dear, it happens once in a while. Everything will be alright.” Harry didn’t feel very reassured. She extracted a golden folder, opened it and got a quill ready. “Your first name, please. If it’s too rare, feel free to come up with one.”

It startled Harry a bit but his first name was fine, he supposed. “Harry.”

She wrote it down on a form. “Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“Were you planning to or did you take any NEWTs?”

What was that for? Harry stumbled. “Erm.” Did he? Well, they didn’t ask the famous defeater of Dark Lords for NEWTs but it won’t do. “I was planning to be an Auror.”

She smiled. “That’s good, Harry. Have you studied at Hogwarts?”

“Yes.”

“Seventh year?”

Oh, she wanted to know if he finished his education. “Yes, but I didn’t take the NEWTs yet.” It will do, right? That way, if they want him to take the exams, they might give him time to prepare.

“Pick a random number from one to six but don’t tell it to me.”

Three but what the hell.

“Add this random number of months to your birth date and tell me that date. Do not give me the date of your actual birthday,” she warned.

“October 31st.” What was the point of this question?

Before the woman could ask another question, an ordinary-looking wizard approached them.

“Hello. I am Unspeakable Folly.” They shook hands.

“Harry.”

Folly nodded to him and to the woman, “Ellen.” He took the half-filled form and noded again. “Let’s go, Harry. We have a lot of paperwork ahead of us.”

The Unspeakable didn’t lie.

They arrived in the interrogation room - a cosy one, with comfortable chairs and a teapot, but still an interrogation room.

“The tea contains a weak solution of Veritaserum.” He saw Harry’s unease. “We will both drink it, it is to ensure trust and understanding, nothing more. You will be able to refuse answering a question and you will be sure the information I provide is accurate.” Or that he believes it, or that he drank an antidote beforehand, Harry thought.

They drank the tea, Harry taking little sips and Folly all at once.

“Harry, time travelled from 2019,” Folly read aloud. He seemed a bit surprised by the year, “seventeen years old, Hogwarts, approximate date of birth 31st of October.”

Shit.

Did it really have to be Halloween?

Harry didn’t say anything. Folly crossed his arms, then quickly uncrossed them. “I am going to be your counsellor. I don’t specialize in time travel and I am not here to research you or your case.” Harry wondered how many people were worried about that. “First, I want to say that it was very responsible of you to go to the Department of Mysteries straight away. Many people run, hide or simply don’t tell anyone about their experience and try to change the future. It often doesn’t end well for them.”

Harry admitted to himself that if he were really seventeen he wouldn’t even think about showing up to the Ministry like this, and not just because he was a hunted man for some time.

“Second, my responsibility is to ensure your smooth transition to this timeline.” Folly thought for a moment. “Do you have any questions?”

Harry shook his head. For the first time since morning, he felt like the grounds under him were shifting.

“We will talk for an hour. After that, you will be examined by our mediwitch, in case there are any dangerous side-effects. Do you feel alright now?”

Harry nodded. Wouldn’t it make sense to ask this question straight away, though?

“Good.” Folly shifted some documents on the table. “Do you have any ideas about the cause of the time travel?”

If he was seventeen, Harry would have asked if he didn’t just say he wasn’t here to research this case. “We have… had a series of murders. The bodies weren’t found afterwards, well, he probably sent them somewhere in time.” That was never a hypothesis. A suspect was an ex-Unspeakable, though. “Aurors were pursuing the murderer in Knockturn, I must have got in the way.” He shrugged. He didn’t really know what exactly happened to him as an Auror, either.

“It’s normal to not remember the events directly prior to the time jump,” Folly said with authority and wrote something down. “People sometimes use time devices to get away from murder, unfortunately.” Was the Unspeakable trying to persuade Harry that his time travel was business as usual? “It fits the pattern of artificial time-turners, one hundred years exactly.”

“Are there not artificial time-turners?” Harry couldn’t help the question.

Folly hummed. “Yes. Rituals gone wrong, massive magical accidents…”

“You can time travel by accidental magic?”

The Unspeakable looked him in the eyes. “Harry, do you have any intentions of trying to find the way into your own time?”

Veritaserum wouldn’t let him lie even he wanted to. “Yes.”

Harry expected Folly to start telling him how impossible it was, how dangerous, but the wizard just scribbled something down.

“What, does it mean you won’t let me out?” Harry asked, trying for a joking tone and failing.

“No, it is quite normal to want to return to the time and space you’ve been accustomed to all your life,” assured him Folly. “But you are right in your presumption that experimenting with time is incredibly dangerous.” Harry  _ knew  _ it. They wouldn’t let him. “I signed you up on the meeting with an Unspeakable that works in a Time Chamber, as well as a reminder to get you some beginner books on the nature of time. The books will be in your room in the Department. Now…”

“My room?” Harry said with a subtone of ‘is it more like a holding cell’ but mostly disbelief.

“Yes. We can’t be sure you are not in danger yourself or won’t suddenly combust in time sand in the middle of Diagon Alley. It will be a pain to clean up.” Harry tried to smile at the obvious attempt to make a joke. The result was the same quality as the joke. Fair. “I’ll show it to you after the medical exam.”

Okay, so they won’t stop him studying time, more like try to recruit.

“Now, there are documents you have to sign.” Folly passed him a sheet. “Do you agree not to perform time-related experiments until you get a Mastery in at least one field?”

“Erm.” Technically, Harry had a Defence Mastery already but they didn’t know that. “Yes.”

Folly nodded, pleased. “Do you promise to consult an Unspeakable working in a Time Chamber or, if you are not on British territory, a time expert of similar expertise, before performing any experiments with time unless you have a Mastery is in Time Research?”

“Yes.” Well, it was more complicated but it made sense.

“Sign here and here.” Folly seemed more relaxed after he got these two signatures. “Good.”

“Is there a document about not gambling on the future?” Harry asked.

The Unspeakable laughed. “Sadly, yes. This one. It includes muggle and wizarding investments both but it has a time limit of ten years.”

“Why?”

“Well, in ten years the changes might accumulate in the amount that won’t let you profit much. But mostly it’s so you would find an actual job instead of gamble on the future. People pretended to be Seers and profit from it… They get captured or go bankrupt when the knowledge expires, or tell everybody they are time travellers. It’s a huge headache.” Folly frowned. “Speaking of which.”

He pulled several sheets that didn’t look like the previous ones. Darker and thicker, they felt heavy with magic and something else.

“It won’t let me tell anyone anything about the future?” Harry guessed.

“Some of them.” Folly seemed more serious. “This parchment is charmed with mind magic. It is illegal for ordinary wizards and witches to have it. If you write on these that you are a cat, then you will believe it and can spend the rest of your life at St Mungo’s.” Harry sat up straighter. “ So, Harry, you understand it’s no joke. Okay?”

He nodded, swallowing. Merlin, for him, it will be an  _ eternity  _ as a cat. “What are they for?”

“What you have to understand is that no one is worried you will ‘change the timeline’. It will be explained at the meeting with the Unspeakable but you can’t make out future significantly worse or significantly better.” Harry frowned. What if he stopped Voldemort from being born, wouldn’t that change things?

Folly caught his doubts. “Let’s take, for example, the serial killer from 2019. You could tell the Aurors about him and they would catch him but it doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be another to take his place. Your actions won’t affect this world more than the actions of one man could. You can stop this one serial killer but it won’t stop others.”

Harry would bet this Unspeakable would be surprised how his actions affected the world - but Folly seemed to be saying something else. In the case of Voldemort, for example: there would be another Dark Lord in his place. Harry wasn’t sure how right that was but he nodded in understanding if not agreement.

Folly wrote something down immediately which caused Harry to tense again. The Unspeakable tried for a reassuring smile. “It’s so my Time Chamber colleague wouldn’t forget to talk to you about changing the timeline, preventing things from happening, that sort of thing. And added an inter-department book for you about stories how it worked out for different people. I thought it was interesting when I’ve read it.” Ravenclaw, Harry thought, definitely Ravenclaw. “So, the Truth Parchment is so you wouldn’t tell anyone you are a time traveller even if they five you Veritaserum, for example.” At this, Folly remembered about the tea and filled their teacups again. “If you want, of course. We don’t use Unbreakable Vows because of how deadly they are and other oaths are not that secure. If you write ‘I never travelled in time’ it will be an option to tell so and be truthful because on this parchment you define the truth for yourself.”

It sounded interesting. Do Aurors or International Task Force use it to go undercover?

“The mind magic on them doesn’t go that deep and it won’t interfere with your memory. Do you agree to sign this?”

“Yes.”

“Then read the sentence carefully and then write it down - precisely. Precision here is quite important. Oh, and it’s a blood quill.” 

Brilliant. Harry flinched but picked it up and wrote down ‘I am not a time traveller’.

Folly nodded but he didn’t seem as happy as he was when Harry signed the ones with time experimentation. Though, it might just be his personal opinion of what was important.

Next on was ‘I am not a Seer’.

“This one is a bit tricky. Do you have any Seer ability or wish to practice it? It doesn’t reassure the clients if you tell them you aren’t a seer.” Folly laughed. Harry happily gave up his future career as a Seer.

Next: ‘I don’t possess any secret knowledge of the future’.

Harry frowned. “This one is… Are you telling me that, if asked, I will answer with these words?”

Folly seemed happy for some reason. “Let’s try it out, shall we. Drink some more tea.”

Harry drank the cup and instantly felt foggy.

“Are you from the future?”

Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to catch himself in time if he didn’t possess the Auror training in Occlumency and resisting interrogation but, “No.” ‘I am not a time traveller’ echoed in his mind.

“Brilliant!” Folly smiled widely. “Who will be the Minister of Magic next term?”

Nothing. “I don’t know,” Harry easily answered.

“Who will be Minister in a hundred years?” This one, Harry knew.

“Hermione Granger.” Shit.

Folly laughed. Harry signed the third clause.

“Who will be the British Minister of Magic in 2019?”

“How would I know?” said Harry, worried if it was bad that he gave it up. But it shouldn’t be dangerous, should it?

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s a hundred years, a lot can change in a hundred years.” 'Wasn’t he just telling me I can’t change the timeline?' And Folly definitely signed nothing about gambling on future events. 

Folly probably didn’t even think that the Minister of Magic could be Harry’s childhood friend.

“There are more of these,” said Harry to distract himself.

“Well. You will need a backstory. A backstory that, if you are called as a witness to court, you could say under Veritaserum.”

“Don’t people use it to fake statements?” Harry simply couldn’t  _ not  _ ask.

“No. Those are rare outside of the department and they are spelled so you couldn’t use it to lie for self-gain. Black market version never got very popular, to my knowledge. It’s easier to figure out how to discretely take an antidote, these are very focused.” Folly seemed to think for a moment. “Let’s imagine a killer wrote ‘I am not a murderer” because it seemed like an impressive thing to say under Veritaserum in court. It will make it hard for him to kill again because  _ he is not a murderer _ . Besides, antidote gives you more space to manoeuvre. Or, let’s say you changed your mind and decided to become a Seer after all - it would be a mental struggle.”

Harry nodded.

Folly looked at the clock. “It’s eleven already. I’ll send a plane for Leo.”

He probably meant paper plane but Harry couldn’t hold a nervous laugh at the thought of sending an actual plane after a mediwitch. Must be a really good mediwitch, he would make a joke if he could be sure aeroplanes were a thing in the 1920s and the Unspeakable had any knowledge of Muggle technology.

Leo silently and quickly cast a dozen charms that all shined good, green-ish colours. Harry was surprised when instead of going away, Leo transfigured a chair, sat at the table and helped himself to tea.

“Now, Harry,” said Folly with a tight smile that didn’t help, “In your situation, it’s not necessary. Some people travel for shorter intervals and it helps if they don’t look like a version of themselves from this timeline. Still. Is there anything you would like to change?”

Merlin. Harry blinked. “Erm.” Practically speaking, the scar was an instant giveaway, but he didn’t want to attract attention to it; besides, he knew how to cast glamours and notice-me-nots on all his scars. And the future where a mad Dark Lord casts Avadas left and right wouldn’t happen, he won’t let it.

“I noticed, Harry, that you wear glasses,” hinted the mediwitch.

“Oh. I got… I mean,” no, not the parents, he agreed to tell the truth so he wouldn’t be confused, “I just got used to the glasses, my eyesight was fixed years ago.” Muggle way, too. “I can stop wearing them, I suppose.”

“That will make some difference,” nodded Ms Plum. “I can prescribe you a course of potions to counteract the childhood and recent malnutrition as well. It might change your height a bit, especially as you grow older.”

Folly looked at him with interest but didn’t ask. He probably didn’t want to know if there was a famine in the future.

Ms Plum looked like she wanted to ask something but didn’t know how.  Harry told her to go ahead and she asked about his blood status. He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Halfblood,” he said, his opinion of the mediwitch falling down.

She stared at him sternly, he stared right back. “I ask because… Well.” Ms Plum looked at Folly expectantly, “What family do you know that repeatedly married their children to… people from certain countries? With that skin colour? And the hair?”

“What,” said Harry, lost for words.

Folly seemed to get it and his eyes widen. “Rowena’s…” He censored himself in time. “Potters!” The fuck, thought Harry. “Since 1858, Potters have the agreement with… Never mind that.”

God, was that the reason everyone told him he looked just like his father because he certainly couldn’t be a copy of whatever version of Potters existed in 1919 and still.

“We were going to go through that anyway, since he is only seventeen and doesn't have his NEWTs,” Harry narrowed his eyes. “But thanks for your help, Leo! I wouldn’t think of it if you didn’t mention the Potters.”

Ms Plum said her goodbyes and soon Harry was alone with a suspiciously cheerful Unspeakable Folly.

“So, Harry Potter then?” he said, smiling. “A family name, too. Henry Potter is currently a member of Wizengamot, did you know?” Harry didn’t but it clearly was a rhetorical question. “If we can contact him - it will make this so much easier.”

Contact him? His grand-whatever-relative? The thought disturbed Harry on some level, he never met a single one besides Dursleys and they were horrible.

“We don’t have to,” said Folly, seeing his unease, “I understand that they are a century removed from you and you likely have never met them.”

“No, do it,” said Harry quickly so he wouldn’t change his mind. Then he backtracked, “They wouldn’t have to adopt me or anything, right?”

Folly shook his head. “They can, however, ask you not to use the surname or to clarify that you have no connection to them, when you introduce yourself,” he warned. “It would be… good if there wasn’t any problem with your backstory like that. The Department wouldn’t want a legal fight on their hands, there are no laws about time travellers and whether they can claim a family name.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Understood.”

Folly tried to cheer him up. “From what I know, Potters have a good reputation. At this time, Henry Potter and his wife, Caroline, have two sons, Fleamont and Charlus…” he noticed that Harry didn’t pay attention to what he was saying and suggested, “Let me show you the room we were talking about?”

When Harry woke up the next day, there was breakfast and the Daily Prophet on the small table. He stared at it for five minutes before getting up.

The room really wasn’t much, Folly didn’t exaggerate. It looked small even with the minimalistic furniture pack, had pale boring green walls and one fake window with a forest view. When Harry got up, it was three steps to the table. He took the newspaper and stared at the date.

24th of May, 1919.

Then he read it, from start to finish. Two muggle civil wars: sixth page, one and two paragraphs respectively. Quidditch, 2nd page: Mexico wins the USA by two hundred points, the latter team’s seeker interviewed about his failed Wronski Feint.

It’s not that different from his time. The Wixen World is like that, slow to change, stuck in the past, in the Muggle world he would know the minute he travelled through time for a  _ century _ .

Speaking of which, he had an appointment with Henry Potter today. When asked if anybody would find it strange, Folly said that the Department of Mysteries does ask old families for an artefact or two, for research, of course.

If Harry was correct, Fleamont was James’ father (he remembered because of the name). That meant that Henry was his grand-grandfather. God.

But, if he was going to live in this time even for a while, and if even a random mediwitch saw him and went ‘Potter’ - he probably needed some kind of explanation for the coincidence. Imagine if he said ‘Harry Evans, hi’ and the nearest pureblood went ‘Henry Potter was unfaithful to his wife, just  _ look  _ at him’. Harry sighed. They deserved some sort of warning, didn’t they? So he could tell people, ‘Oh yes, Potters? I know, we met, no relation’ and not ‘What do you mean I look like a Potter?’. Especially as he was still used to the surname.

Harry fidgeted. He was a forty-year-old Auror and he  _ fidgeted _ .

Henry Potter looked nothing like him. Nothing. Well, he was black-haired and had a similar skin tone, but the eyes were different. And the build, Harry was shorter and scrawnier, especially at seventeen. Maybe a face structure - if you  _ really  _ look. Harry only noticed because he compared himself to a photo of his father a lot.

Harry didn’t stare. Henry Potter didn’t either. They were both just politely looking at a Potter they have never seen before, separated by a century.

“You are named after me, then,” said Henry Potter.

“Harry isn’t short for anything, it’s just Harry,” said just Harry smartly (or he hoped so). Being seventeen again and not a Head Auror sucked, teenage slang reference intended.

Henry Potter frowned. Unspeakable Folly definitely stared at the both of them.

“I can see it,” Mr Potter made a verdict. “I’ll need an ancestry proof for Gringotts, however. Time travel wouldn’t interfere with the results of an ancestry potion, would it?”

“I am not in expert in either Potions or Time, sir,” admitted Folly reluctantly. “But if it doesn’t work, Gringotts can do a blood check, time travel shouldn’t matter in that case.”

Henry Potter looked at him next and asked a question, for the first time. “You are Fleamont’s grandchild, are you not?” He then looked at Folly, “As far as I understand, it is unsafe to know further?”

Folly straightened his spine. “Depends on what kind of action you would take with the information. There’re might be also problems with managing expectations. What happened previously is not guaranteed to happen again.”

Henry Potter nodded. Harry didn’t like how little had been said between them. He was seventeen, he reminded himself again, seventeen is of age. ‘He doesn’t have any legal power over me, in any case.’

“Yes, Fleamont is my grandfather.”

“Have you met him? Or Euphemia?”

Harry shook his head and looked at Folly, unsure. “My grandparents died soon after my parents got married.” There, no timeframe.

“The tradition of having kids in old age has continued, I see,” Henry chuckled and Harry could barely stop his eyes from widening. Shit. Seventeen. It meant he thought Harry was born in the 21st century when his parents were at least forty. He should be careful with any kind of timeframe, he might contradict himself.

They became silent once again: Henry thinking and Harry trying not to fidget.

“I agree to adopt you in the family, under the condition that you will be after Charlus in a line of succession.” Harry blinked. Honestly, it was the last thing on his mind. “We might go with the final lie that you are one of Potter’s line squibs and were homeschooled till that moment, it would make sense to cover it up. I trust you can get your OWLs immediately?”

“We can put him in for OWLs at the usual time in the Ministry, in June,” wedged in Folly.

“Potter’s squibs, erm, sir?” Harry didn’t like how it sounded.

“They are rumours, of course. There are always rumours about families having squibs and hiding them in the muggle world. Some will believe it. Some will think you are my bastard child. Some will think you are an orphaned relative from India. Encourage all of those rumours but confirm none.” Henry’s brown eyes felt like weight hovering an inch above his shoulders - one wrong move and it will fall. “You will go to Hogwarts for the final year, I assume?”

Folly coughed, attracting attention. “If I may, Mr Potter, it might be better for Harry to continue his education from the sixth year after he passes his OWLs. Yes, he is seventeen but taking into account his… constitution, he will comfortably pass for a sixth year.” Henry didn’t look convinced. “Sir, if Harry appears right in the seventh year, he will be viewed more strongly as competition - and Harry wouldn’t simply not have a familiar face there but…” Folly stopped shy of painting an angsty picture of Harry’s life which honestly wouldn’t have helped him. “Besides, time travellers adjust better without the pressure of NEWTs, especially if they had a different curriculum - it’s been a century, after all.”

Henry Potter nodded in agreement. 

How in hell was this decision taken without Harry’s participation? And sixth year. Well. Folly’s argument was solid. Sixth year was better than seventh, or so Harry’s been told. Would have been awkward, he spent most of his sixth stalking Malfoy, having an intellectual crush on Snape and deceiving Slughorn for the greater good. He never went for his seventh year, except to arrange a coup. He was ashamed of never finishing Hogwarts or getting his NEWTs as a Head Auror but not enough to actually do those things.

Just for appearances, Harry said, “That’s okay with me.”

“Do you have a career in mind?”

“I always wanted to be an Auror.” Veritaserum probably wouldn’t have let him get away with the statements but it was true enough.

Folly pulled out an OWLs application sheet and gave it to Harry.

“Erm. Well, DADA, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, obviously.”

“Your best and your worst of those four?” asked Henry, sounding genuinely interested.

“DADA is the best. Potions… I could get an E, O if I’m lucky.” Harry thought about the fifth. When seventeen, he picked Herbology instead of Care but now he did possess a various amount of unsystematic knowledge on Care, Herbology, Runes and even Arithmancy. “I took Herbology at that time because I had a friend there,” a lie, “but this time I might actually take all four options and change my decision with OWLs results. Right?”

Folly answered. “Yes, Hogwarts usually accepts NEWT-level students with Es or Os on OWLs.”

Harry wanted to fidget with a quill but it was hard to do so without spilling ink all over. Pens were much better.

“Well, I’ll get an E on at least one of those subjects. Probably not Arithmancy, though.” Harry commented, trying for the classic humour of ‘I am bad at math, isn’t that funny’.

Henry Potter didn’t look disappointed in his grand-grandchild academical achievements, at least. “Fleamont can help you with Potions. He will be an apprentice under Slughorn for his final year of Mastery.”

Harry made an appropriately awed face expression.

“If you decide to go for the Time Research,” said Folly, suddenly looking uncomfortable for interrupting, “We require O on your Arithmancy NEWT and at least E in all the subjects you take as a NEWT. History of Magic is a requirement.”

“Oh, I completely forgot about History of Magic!” exclaimed Harry and wrote it down, missing a fleeting smile on Henry Potter’s face.

It’s 25th of May and he is already waking up in another place, leaving the green room at the Department for the next time traveller. The books are with him, though.

Does he want to actually research time travel? Harry feels like if he wasn’t met with an offer of assistance but with a refusal and a telling of how dangerous it is, he would be more motivated - now him reading books about time is not an act of rebellion and not a forbidden apple but an apple of ‘join a dozen of researchers in our collective struggle to understand time’. Why would he be able to figure it out  _ alone _ , when hundreds of better-suited people could not? Teenage patterns of thinking, how suspicious, noted Harry.

They spent the rest of 24th signing various documents, and now: 

Henry Potter can attest under Veritaserum that Harry Potter is his close relative but can’t disclose the actual degree under a magical oath;

Harry Potter can attest under Veritaserum that Harry Potter is Henry, Fleamont and Charlus Potter’s close relative but can’t disclose the actual degree under a magical oath;

they both can say that Harry Potter was born on 31st of October in 1902 (which is easy to remember since it’s minus a hundred from his ‘actual’ birth year, says Folly) and officially adopted by Henry Potter on 24th of May as the last in succession after his own children.

And now, on paper, Harry Potter has a father, a mother, one older brother, one younger brother - the latter three haven’t met him yet, and an unknown amount of relatives in India which were there the last time, he just never ever heard of them. He would gladly move to India from the Dursleys but it would have probably been hard to save magical Britain all the way from India.

Henry Potter was a member of Wizengamot and wasn’t, at least judging by what Harry saw, a pureblood supremacist which was good. He looked around Muggle forty, was probably around sixty, and taller than Harry for what seemed like ten whole inches. They did look annoyingly like a father and his sixteen-year-old six-year-of-Hogwarts most-of-growth-spurt-ahead son.

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

Kareena Potter, Caroline for most because of the unfortunate habit of people to anglicize names, was… Well, Harry only met her once and very briefly, exchanged a couple of polite words and had been lead to ‘his room’. Which had been a guestroom but wasn’t now. She seemed… on guard. Which was understandable, of course. Harry hoped it will be better after Henry explained more of the situation to her. She would probably have to sign the Truth Parchments.

Fleamont and Charlus too. Fleamont wasn’t home when they came back and Charlus was watching from the staircase, unnoticed by his parents but not by Harry. He seemed curious, Harry hoped it was a good sign.

Charlus was  _ fourteen _ . So small. Please don’t let this ruin his childhood, Harry thought.

The room is at least twice bigger than at the Department of Mysteries, it makes Harry think he should have stayed there. He had never lived in this house, even though, if not for Voldemort, he probably would have. He doesn’t know what happened to it.

The sun woke him up and Harry looked at the sunrise from a window. The house wasn’t at Godric's Hollow or any other village but somewhere deep in the countryside, maybe even unplottable. He was on the third floor and the rest of the occupants were on the second. It made something inside him lighter than he wasn’t pushed there right away, a little distance was good.

Slowly, Harry caught up with the fact that sunrise in May meant it was four in the morning and sighed.

On Monday at ten, he will have an appointment with a Time Chamber Unspeakable and later, with Folly.

Harry took the fancy quill and parchment (have to go to a muggle store and buy real pens and notebooks, he noted) and wrote a list.

**DADA**

**Charms**

Potions

Transfiguration

History

Arithmancy

Runes

Care

Herbology

Nine subjects. Nine. Was he mad? How was he ever going to pass for a NEWT student studying for OWLs for the second time? However, if his Defence, Charms, Transfiguration and Potions were fine for the Aurory then weren’t they also fine for the school exams? Yes, he decided, painfully aware that it might not be the case at all. He was homeschooled. He was allowed to be unconventional. He could do his useless Animagus transfor- no, he couldn’t, he wasn’t registered and was pretending to be sixteen. Oh, well.

He was abysmal at History of Magic. Did Harry even remember a thing about Goblin rebellions that didn’t happen in his lifetime? No, he didn’t. He could tell you about (House) Elf Liberation Front - (H.) E. L. F., name clearly not Hermione’s idea - and a legal struggle with the laws that treated house-elves like a kind of property. Godric knows Harry listened to Hermione going about it that for  _ hours _ . He could tell you about Lupin Foundation making it possible for werewolves- but it wasn’t here and now. Here and now they were probably hunted. Harry shivered and tried to push the thought away.

History of Magic exam was in the middle of June, 14th. Twenty days for five years of material. Sounds doable.

Harry thought he should at least  _ try  _ to get into Arithmancy. He went to those supplementary courses Hermione made obligatory, didn’t he? They were an equivalent of OWLs, weren’t they? The problem was, it was five years ago and he probably forgot everything. Same with Runes. Still, it was only three years instead of five.

Herbology - could probably manage, relying on Potions knowledge. Care - not so much. Both - five years.

And where are Hermione’s colour-coded priority-sorted schedules when you need them?..

Harry ended up cancelling both appointments for the later (post-OWL) date and buried himself in books, showing up only to breakfast after Henry Potter’s insistence. He still hadn’t decided what to call him (Henry seemed too familiar), Kareena Potter was still on guard around him, Charlus was offended that the guest didn’t pay him due attention, Fleamont organised exactly one Potion study session and it went like this.

“So you are my brother now?”, followed by a five-minute quiz, followed by assigning him a sixth year Potion and watching him like a hawk, followed by “You’ll be fine.” It lasted an hour at most.

Harry felt so  _ wrong  _ here.

Then it was 25th of June and a (somewhat) anxiously awaited letter arrived at breakfast. Henry Potter  _ opened  _ it without asking permission, raised his eyebrows and gave it to Euphemia. She skimmed it and almost gave it to Harry but Charlus intercepted it. Harry admitted that if he didn’t feel so wrongfooted, he would have probably thought it funny. Finally, the letter was in his hands.

DADA - O

Charms - O

Potions - O (He got lucky)

Transfiguration - O

History - A (Well, fuck)

Arithmancy - E (Barely)

Runes - A

Care - E

Herbology - E

Time Chamber wasn’t in his future unless Binns at this time accepted students with an A, which would be strange as he was still alive. Harry thought about what Hermione did, taking History as a self-study in her eighth year and decided to do the same (nobody could forbid him from taking it as a NEWT, after all). He could probably make it an E, at least.

Otherwise, for an Auror, fine.

“So, Harry, what have you decided to take in addition to the core subjects?” Strangely enough, it was Euphemia’s voice, not Henry’s.

“Arithmancy, and either Care or Herbology.” He thought about his years as an Auror. “Herbology seems more useful. Care - depends on the instructor.” At least, that was his experience.

“You didn’t get E in History.” That was Henry.

“Pretty much as Expected,” Harry shrugged his shoulders, trying not to show how uncomfortable the situation made him. His friends reacted differently and Siri- no.

“Still, it is very good,” granted Henry.

God, did some kids really have such stiff relationships with their parents? Harry couldn’t imagine it.

Charlus was crumbling bread all over his plate, as usual, enjoying the show. He smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back, feeling fragile and warm at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is Harry Potter’s idea and is a reference to Doctor Who, a classical Muggle British TV series. Weeping angels feed on the ‘time energy’ of their victims by dropping them into the past and letting them live out their full lives, just in a different time period. The serial killer that got Harry in the beginning was using some sort of device to make their victims disappear (and probably killing them anyway, as time travel is pretty dangerous) to one hundred years into the past, or so Harry assumes.  
> The Golden Trio watched Doctor Who together at some point.
> 
> According to the timeline they made up:  
> 1919 June - end of fifth year, 16  
> 1914 September - start of 1st year, 12  
> 1913 Oct 31 - 11, gets a Hogwarts letter (which he didn't get for obvious reasons, btw)  
> 1902 Oct 31- born
> 
> Reason for placing Harry in 1919 where nothing happens: so he wouldn't jump into action and didn't even think about killing Riddle, destroying Horcruxes, etc. In my head, they do interact at some point (you will hopefully see) but as a fanfiction reader I both read a lot of tomarry and dislike romantic subplots, and as a writer am easily swayed by ideas and rarely finish anything long. So.  
> Harry also has to deal with the Master of Death mess he created. But that's for the next story!


End file.
